Breeley's Stand
by Akayla's Pierced Heart
Summary: During the plague two people reunite after four years and try to survive the aftermath and eachother. Based on Stephen King's "The Stand."


The Plague

Breeley Jance had no idea what to do. Standing in the parking lot of the local superstore she wondered first, how would she get in and second, what should she take. The parking lot was almost empty. That meant that the store had been closed for a while or completely looted. The few cars that were there were all abandoned. Breeley sighed and walked to the car nearest to her. It was an old Mazda with all the windows busted out. Careful not to nick her arms on the glass she reached in and opened the door from the inside. She rummaged through the car but did not find what she needed. The next two car searches ended the same. Finally, she came to an old pick up and there, in the back, was what she needed: a tire iron. Grinning at her success she headed for the main doors of the store. Breaking the glass on the door was a little easier than she had thought.

Once inside the first thing she did was take in a big breath. She calculated what she tasted and smelled: moldy fruit, floor cleaner, stale food, dust. "Thank you… No dead bodies." She shook her head. She was talking to herself again. She'd been doing a lot of that lately. The daylight from outside didn't do much do brighten the inside so Breeley went in search of a flashlight. She knew that near the registers there were always cheap plastic flashlights on display. She found one with no trouble that already had batteries inside. Getting it out of the plastic wrap required another search for scissors. Once she got the flashlight working she went back near the doors and grabbed herself a cart. As the wheels squeaked on the linoleum floor Breeley's mind wandered over the events of the past weeks, and years, of her life.

Breeley had led a very simple life. She had grown up in Giddings Texas barely seeing much of the world until after she graduated high school. Her momma was a History teacher and her daddy a fireman. They had raised and married off four boys by the time Breeley was twelve.

Canned soup. It would be easy to heat over a campfire. And gallons of water instead of bottles. She went heavy on the water. Roasted nuts and oatmeal bars to snack on. She couldn't help but grab a bottle of sweet tea and open it up. She was so thirsty and tea had always been her favorite drink. Maybe she would take a case for the road. Don't forget a can opener.

None of her brothers before her had wanted to go to college so it was possible for Breeley to be sent off to school instead of the junior college nearby where most of her classmates would go. Breeley had always dreamed of going to Penn State University. She loved places with history. She knew she probably got that from her momma.

Band-Aids, she would need those. She threw them in the cart. She should probably pick up a good first aid kit. Or she could just assemble one herself. She would also pick up a radio and more batteries for her light… She looked down at her flashlight. She could probably find a better one.

Penn State was perfect for Breeley. Oh yes, she missed the warmth that only a Texas sun could provide, but it wasn't enough to make her want to leave for summer break. As a double major in Biology and Zoology, there were plenty of courses to keep her occupied. She stayed and took the summer courses. She wondered if she had gone home, would she have died with the rest of her family…

Camping gear, she would need that. A very small pop-up tent, heavy duty matches, and a tarp all went into her cart. She pulled a water proof sleeping bag off the shelf and hugged it. She needed a hug. She need some new clothes and better shoes too.

Each phone call from home brought more and more bad news. But her momma told her not to come home. "You stay right where you are honey. You won't do no good comin here and catchin whatever we got. You stay right there." So Breeley had stayed. She didn't have the heart to tell Momma that most of the girls in her dorm hall were either sick or had already gone home. Momma was the last to die. Her pastor had called Breeley with the news just four days ago. It was then that Breeley had made up her mind to leave. She didn't know where she would go. West sounded like a good idea, though she wasn't sure why.

A hunting knife. She didn't know this store sold weapons. She'd need to find a sharpener.

Before she had left campus the people who had stayed that were still well enough to be walking, were swapping stories from their hometowns. One boy said his dad had told him about army men in masks terrorizing civilians in Wyoming. They were shooting at reporters and hanging looters. Breeley's high school boyfriend, Logan, had joined the army after graduation. She hadn't seen him since. Was he dead, or shooting looters?

A bicycle was her best bet to at least get out of the city. She could pick up a something else if she wanted to later. She had never liked driving cars. She hated it in fact. She never felt in control in a car. She thought about finding a moped or something but she'd rather not have to stop for gas. Cross-country biking was nothing knew to a small town girl who had to go four towns over to see a new movie. Besides, she wanted to take her time. She found a good mountain bike and pondered her next problem. How was she gonna carry all this?

West. West pulled at her. From two sides, it pulled at her relentlessly.

It had taken her the better part of an hour but she was proud as she looked at the result. Her shopping cart was now equipped with bicycle wheels. A red and blue cord with hooks on each end connected the shopping cart to the back of her bike. She fitted a metal rod that would keep the cart from crashing into the bike when she went downhill and twisted the cord around it to hold it in place. The last thing she had thrown in her cart was a tube repair kit and an air pump. Better to be caught with an easily fixable flat than stranded on the highway out of gas. A waterproof canvas was securely wrapped around the cart so her stuff wouldn't get wet. Oh, yeah, an umbrella was a good idea. She could get a big one and fit it onto the bike just behind the seat. It would keep away the sun too. That's when Breeley finally laughed at herself. A Texan forgetting to bring her sun-block. She headed back towards the sporting goods aisle.

Breeley didn't know why she didn't get sick. When everyone around her did, she was sure she was next. But the coughing and sneezing never came. The tears came. And came and came. Breeley didn't know if she would ever cry again. She wouldn't mind if she didn't.

As she passed the registers on her way out she saw a display that made her stop. Little plastic name tags were hung on a rotating rack. She absently swung the rack around looking for her name. She found Brea, Bree, Brianna, Brianne, no Breeley. She had always loved her name. It sounded sweet to her. Her Momma had picked that name. She hated when people called her Bree, as they almost always did. There were only three people who used her full name all the time. Two of them were dead, and the third was probably shooting looters…


End file.
